


Interlude

by macwritesthings



Series: What We Both Need [6]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anxiety Attacks, Dom Drop, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Blood, WOW HAVE SOME ANGST, brief allusion to physical assault, dominant armie hammer, i'm really sorry about this y'all, submissive timothee chalamet, this is a flash-forward in the timeline but uhhh it has to go here sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 09:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16595507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macwritesthings/pseuds/macwritesthings
Summary: This takes place roughly two weeks after the end of the previous part of What We Both Need, but also is a flash-forward in a sense, because the next part will pick up right before this happens, but uhh I'm a terrible person and I LIKE THE ANGST.In summary: Timmy is hurt, and Armie goes into dom drop.





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> HI FRIENDS UH SORRY ABOUT THIS ONE???? I promise this isn't the end of the story and how this happened will be explained and expounded on in the next part. I love you guys a lot. 
> 
> WARNING FOR: mentions of anxiety attack symptoms, and a brief allusion to physical assault. 
> 
> Also, I love you all so so much but when I came back, I had over 150 messages in my inbox. I read all of them, but responding to all of them was daunting, so I'm doing a clean slate and will begin to reply to messages again now, in a timely fashion!
> 
> Love you <3

INTERLUDE   
_Armie_

His heart was racing--he could literally feel his pulse pounding in his throat, his fingers clenched in his suit jacket so he didn’t pound on the roof of the car, yell at the driver to go faster, move quicker, _do anything_ to get them there faster. He could feel sweat pooling in the small of his back, beading against that pounding pulse point, and when Viktor reached over to touch his leg, he flinched before he realized what the touch was.

“Hey,” Viktor’s voice was low, soothing, the way Armie himself talked to Timmy sometimes when he was spooked or anxious, when he needed to be brought back to the real world. “We’re going as fast as we can without breaking any laws. It’s going to be fine, Armie.” Armie shook his head, staring out the window at the buildings streaming by him on the highway, heard the dim echo of sirens as they fired up ahead of the car, closed his eyes and tried not to think about Timmy surrounded by that sound, alone, afraid, and he unclenched one hand to grip Viktor’s tightly. “It’s going to be okay,” his brother repeated, and Armie finally spoke.

“I left him,” he said, voice sounding hollow behind the ringing in his ears, and Viktor shook his head, squeezed Armie’s hand.

“You left for _twenty-four hours_ to get mom,” he said, keeping the pressure on Armie’s hand. “You can’t always be there, Armie, and it isn’t your _fault_ \--” 

“But I still _left_ ,” he said, cutting Viktor off, and VIktor frowned at him, then shifted closer, covering Armie’s hand with both of his.

“Armie,” he said slowly, voice low, the pressure from both his hands pinching through the terror and nerves flooding Armie’s body. “I need you to look at me, okay?” Armie blinked out the window for another moment before turning to look at his brother, his vision hazy around the edges, and he could see VIktor studying him, brown eyes serious as they searched Armie’s face, and finally Viktor sighed. “Armie, you’re going through dom drop,” he said, that calm tone still in place, turning Armie’s hand over in his to rub soothing circles against the skin on the inside of Armie’s wrist, and Armie stared at him for a few seconds, comprehending what he’d just said. “I’m going to keep contact, and I need you to just focus on me, alright? Just focus on my voice,” Viktor continued, and Armie nodded, let the sound of Viktor speaking wash over him. It took him a moment before he realized Viktor was summarizing the first Harry Potter book, and if he hadn’t been so fucked up, he might have smiled at the absurdity of it.

When that finally registered in his brain, that thought, the fact that he couldn’t keep focus, that the hollow feeling in his chest was somehow smothering him at the same time it was emptying him out, that he couldn’t really hear anything, he knew Viktor was right--he was in dom drop. He’d heard of it happening, of course, knew it was something that could happen, but he’d never experienced it himself, and if this was anything what sub drop felt like, fuck, it was awful. He squeezed Viktor’s hand to let him know he was there, he was listening, and he felt Viktor squeeze back in response, telling him about Hagrid making Harry a birthday cake.

By the time they’d exited the freeway, Harry was meeting Ron on the train and Armie’s breathing was back to normal, the ringing in his ears gone although his body still felt too tense, too _tight_ , but he was listening, able to focus, and he even laughed when Viktor did his Draco Malfoy impersonation. 

When they pulled up outside the hospital, his heart rate was almost back to an acceptable speed, and he shoved open his door, keeping his other hand locked in Viktor’s as he shoved through the emergency room doors, striding to the desk. Before the nurse could even open his mouth to speak, Armie was talking.

“Timothee Chalamet,” he said, feeling Viktor step up next to him, press against his side. “I’m his registered dominant, and I need to see him.” The nurse nodded, tapping on his keyboard, before holding out one hand.

“ID, please, sir,” he said, and Armie bristled but Viktor just squeezed his hand again. It was protocol, and he knew that, but he didn’t like being stalled more than he already _had been_ , and he pulled his wallet out of one pocket and barely resisted just tossing his license at the nurse’s face. He had a job to do, and acting like a fucking idiot would only delay this process. The nurse scanned his ID, nodding after a moment and handing it back. “He’s been moved to a room. Go through these doors, then take the second left. His emergency contact is with him.”

Armie nodded, moving away while thanking him, Viktor flanking him. The fact that Greta was there helped ease the tension between his shoulders a bit, but until he saw Timmy for himself, he wasn’t reacting. (And thank god he’d even thought to _put_ an emergency contact down before he’d left town, it had been almost an afterthought to everything else, asking Timmy if he was fine with Greta as his emergency dominant, and Timmy had grinned and shrugged, told him if Greta thought she could handle him _and_ Saoirse, then sure, she could be, and Armie had laughed, kissed him soundly, and made the appropriate arrangements.)

He took the second left, eyes scanning the waiting room until they fell on Greta, Saoirse curled up in the chair next to her, and he felt as though he were running towards her, catching the moment she sensed movement and looked up, her eyes locking on his. She gently nudged Saoirse aside, the smaller woman blinking at him sleepily, before standing and locking her arms around him, and Armie finally let himself go, banding his arms around Greta tightly, shaking a little, feeling Viktor’s hand steady against his back, a smaller hand petting over his shoulder, and he tipped his head enough to smile weakly at Saoirse. Greta pulled back, briefly touching his jaw before taking Saoirse’s hand, and Armie noticed the red stain on the cuff of her sleeve, the smears against the dark grey of her trousers, and swallowed hard.

“He’s sedated,” Saoirse said after a moment of silence, and Armie ripped his gaze away from her pants and fixed his eyes on hers instead, the serious, blinding blue grounding him. “He’s going to be fine.” She sounded like she’d been crying, voice hoarse in the back of her throat, and Greta wrapped her arm around Sersh’s shoulders instead, nodding.

“He is. The doctors let me in to see him, but he’s been sedated since the ride in. He’s already had one surgery, and he might need more, but right now he’s stable.” Armie swallowed hard, then reached one hand out to Saoirse, and when she took it, he pulled her in gently, wrapped her in a hug, felt her breath shudder out against his chest as her shoulders hitched, tears pressing against his shirt.

“You took care of him,” he said, squeezing her gently before pulling back and kissing her forehead. “You made sure he was okay, you called Greta, you called me, you, Saoirse Ronan, are my goddamn hero.”

Saoirse laughed at him, a watery sound that got trapped in her throat, rubbing at her eyes. “He’s important to me,” she said, and Armie nodded. Greta pulled her in, rubbed one hand down her back.

“He’s going to want to see you as soon as he wakes up,” Greta said, nodding towards the nurse’s station behind them. “Go let them know you’re here. We’ll be waiting out here.” Armie took a breath, glancing at Viktor, who nodded encouragingly at him, and he squeezed Greta’s shoulder once more before moving to the desk, asking for Timmy’s room, and following the nurse down another short hallway.

He was ushered into a room, and stopped in the threshhold, a lump forming in his throat. Timmy looked too small, too fragile, IV in one arm and the other bandaged down to his hand, a cast covering his gorgeous artist’s fingers, bandages plastered against his head, peeking out from the neck of the hospital gown. Armie dropped into the chair next to the bed, reaching out shakily to brush Timmy’s curls gently out of his hand before taking the hand free of a cast.

“I’m here,” he said softly, watching the monitors beep, watching Timmy breathe, keeping their hands linked. “I’ve got you.”


End file.
